Toujours Pur
by edmundblack
Summary: The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, from the founding to Scorpius Malfoy./Chapter Four: He uses wife to disassociate her from the girl, because he is so guilty and it's Christmas and his Mother is insane.
1. Cassiopeia Malfoy - 24 December 1350

Mother laces up the back of my dress until I can't breathe. Her fingers move swiftly, pulling and tugging and pushing the string through the holes. Meanwhile, my sister Anne's fingers move quickly, despite her being two years younger than me. She works quickly and eventually my hair has been braided beautifully and piled on top of my head.

"Cassiopeia," She breathes, stroking my dark hair, "You're truly blessed. Very lucky, you are, to be wedding _Edmund Black." _Anne says in awe. She peeks over my hair into the mirror and smiles toothily; and why would she not? She looks like a Malfoy should; she has the silvery, curled hair and the bright blue eyes and pale skin and the charming smile. I wish I looked like her; but everyone says I look more Gaunt than Malfoy, just like my mother, and I hate it. Especially today I hate it, when Anne and my brother and sisters and father are dressed in gold (because even though Catherine has dark hair like me, she has the eyes and smile to make up for it). But I look terrible in gold, so we have a bride in deep blue who looks like she is attending church. If only Anne was the eldest; oh, if only.

Outside the window I hear the soft snow fall to the ground and a pang of jealousy hits me; I know some girls whose parents aren't making them marry at the oldest opportunity and who are staying at Hogwarts, to enjoy the rest of their third year. But girls can be pulled out as long as they've gone up to Christmas of Third Year, and that I have. Usually I would be excited, for they make the house-elves do plays in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and we sing carols and there is always, _always _a nativity scene. I was Mary, always Mary, for they tried to put the favored families into the play; I was Mary and the Smith boy was Joseph, and a house-elf would play the babe Jesus. But now I will never be Mary, because today is my wedding day and tonight I will lose my virginity in hope of a son conceived on the wedding night _and _on the eve of Christ's birth – they say it is meant to be a gift, an honor to be a part of this wedding but I do not see it that way.

"The Blacks are not wealthy," I remind Anne, turning my head away from the mirror, "It is a very lucky thing that Edmund is skilled, and they only own a manor." She scowls at me, moving around my chair and straightening out my skirts.

"Yes, but they say he is handsome and that he is the most talented wizard since the founders of Hogwarts themselves!" Anne bursts out, barely stopping for breath as she speaks. "I wish _I _could be married to someone as amazing as him."

"_Anne,_" Mother cuts in warningly, "Quiet down, this isn't a time for talking. And do not worry, my daughter, I have been speaking to some other families about a marriage to you – you're older than Cassiopeia was when she was betrothed."

I sigh a little. If she says anything more to Anne, she will not be quiet until her wedding. Which is two years away, for her, and they will be endless.

"Who?" Anne queries excitedly, curls bouncing. I cannot fathom how she can possibly be excited about being married to someone she's probably never met, and having to bear his children and possibly never see her family again. But I am surprised it has taken this long for Mother to start considering a marriage for her – everyone loves Anne, she is considered one of the greatest beauties in Wizarding Britain, with slight curves and all at just eleven. I wish I had some of her looks – I'm flat like my brother and there is no sign of anything happening, apart from my courses, which started in the Summer. Mother had been worried I would be infertile for a long while, but now she's slightly reassured.

"Many families. Your cousin Octavian is just a year younger than you, as is Wallis Lestrange, and Benjamin Burke is older than you, but still without a wife." Mother says casually, sliding a pin through Anne's hair. "And there is the Smith boy, Marcus, and the heir for the Weasleys, Billius." Anne goes even paler than usual at this and I can't help but feel satisfied.

"Oh…Are you going to wed me to Billius?" Anne's voice quavers. Mother laughs.

"It all depends, my sweetling, but I was thinking of wedding Catherine or Jane to him instead, for he is two years younger than you." There is a rap on the door, and my stomach sinks through the ground. That is the signal for me to walk down the aisle. And sure enough, the music strikes up, quick as you like, and Mother pushes me forwards. Her and Anne are to carry my train, and they pick it up, and I hear Anne give a little 'ooh'. The door is opened by a house-elf and I walk out into the room, with a high, golden-arched ceiling and people gathered around in the seats. The chapel of Malfoy's Keep. An anxious knot settles itself deep inside of my stomach, and a hot flush rushes over me. I do not want to do this. I really, really, do not want to do this. Every part of me is saying no, run, run away. My mother conjures a wreath of flowers with a flick of her wand and hands them to me.

"Thank you," I whisper to her.

"Shh," She whispers back. I swallow hard as we come out of the antechamber, and my slippers touch the marble. My husband stands tall by the altar, in perfectly tailored robes and combed-back hair. This is the first time I have ever seen the man I am to marry. I suppose, if he were not so much older than me, I could consider him handsome – he has dark, smooth hair, a pointed chin and is quite tall, much taller than myself.

I take a deep breath, steady myself, and step onto the carpet, ready to start this new life.


	2. Edmund Black I - 24 December 1350

I stand next to the altar, tall and proud, straining my eyes to catch a glimpse of the girl who is to be my wife. I have never met her, I did not even arrange the marriage – Father saw my talent and decided that if I was wed to a girl of power, a Malfoy girl, the House of Black could be properly founded. I wanted someone older – this girl is barely thirteen, from what I have heard – but Father insisted she would be the best fit. As I watch her walk down the aisle, I worry – her family, the Malfoys, are in gold, but she is in blue and that is neither a Malfoy colour nor a Black colour. She also has different coloring to the rest of her family, besides her mother – dark hair and green eyes and darker skin.

I have heard that in the muggle world, they do this procession back-to-front – the bride is last, with her father escorting her. This happens here, as well, but the bride is always first. Her father rises and joins her, and I can see why the Malfoys were such a good pick – everything radiating off of Perseus Malfoy screams power and wealth.

My father stands behind me, as my best man, and I can hear him worrying about my mother. She could not join the procession, they deemed her too sick because of the horrible Rockdragon pox that she has. It has marred her face far beyond beauty. So she sits in the front row, flashing me a weak smile. The Malfoys are wealthy and powerful and beautiful and she is none of those things. The Malfoy girl continues down the aisle, and I can tell from the shape of her mouth that she is biting her tongue.

I shift slightly, and that is when I see the next eldest Malfoy girl – Anne, I believe her name is. She outshines the bride, in a dress of glimmering gold that catches the light from the candles and the stained glass windows. Anne smiles brightly, and already looks like a woman, more than her sister at least, although she is only…Eleven, perhaps? I am unsure. Father told me their ages, but I don't particularly care, as long as _my _wife is obedient and gives me the heir I need. My whole life I have tried to improve the House of Black's fortunes, and this is one of the defining moments. She should feel honoured – she will be the true foundress of House Black. But as Anne beams at the people in the pews, and glances past her sister at me, I wish it was the slightly younger one. She looks truly happy, and they say a happy bride is the key to a happy life.

As the bride arrives, she curtsies and her father offers her to the altar, and she unhooks her arm from his. Next to her comes her Maid of Honor, her sister Anne, who smiles broadly at me before going to her sister's side, letting go of her train. Then comes her Mother, who takes her place behind the altar – she and the priest will both be in charge of making the Unbreakable Vow. Her sister – Catherine, I think it is? – takes her place next to beautiful Anne, and then comes her youngest sister Jane and her brother Edward, the flower girl and the page boy, who take their respective spots.

I look my new bride up and down – Cassiopeia, that's her name. She has her mother's coloring, not her father's, which is a bit of a shame, really. Dark hair, her grandmother's Italian looks and green eyes from the Gaunt family. Her gown is trimmed with gold, but her siblings and parents all look far more spectacular than her.

The priest begins to speak and I do not care to listen – instead, I try to wonder what her temperament will be like. It's similar to when judging a horse – generally you want good coloring and a good temperament (and, if I were to listen to the likes of the Fawleys when they've had too much rum, you want them to be okay with you riding them), so I'm trying to figure that out now. She looks quiet enough, and she won't make eye-contact with me – I cannot tell if that is a good thing or a bad thing.

I hear my cue and my lips begin to move, saying words I cannot be bothered to think about. It has been drilled into me, and I simply do not care for them at all – and why should I? This is not a marriage of love, or promise, this is a strictly political marriage out of necessity. No-one can accuse us of loving each other, not now and not ever.

I finish, and she completes it, staring up at me as she says them. She is much shorter than me, barely reaching my shoulder, and again it is impressed into me what a girl she is, just how young she truly is. Barely old enough to have children, and I suspect if by some chance she becomes with child, one or the other will not make it.

And then it is the time for the kiss, and she stands on tip-toes and I lean down and our lips meet and I realize just how inexperienced she is – she cannot even kiss as a woman must. She barely opens her mouth, puckering it just slightly and I decide to teach her how. My lips attack hers, pressing hard and pushing her lips open, twisting my tongue around hers and I can feel her trying to push me out. But she is my wife now, and she cannot push me out. Although eventually I tire and do pull away and the crowd cheers and she takes my arm as she should and looks nervously out at the crowd. She seems quite scared, and I decide that I will look after her – she will have to fulfil her wifely duties, but after that I will leave her alone. She seems like she will be a good wife.

I take her arm tightly, and we begin to move down the aisle, and we will move out of the little chapel into the first set of chambers we see and consummate the marriage. To be honest, I am nervous too – I have only spent very few nights with mistresses. And I do not want a dead wife, or one scared of me – I will only hurt her if she resists or refuses. I will try not to be cruel, I promise myself that.

We finish our proud walk down the aisle and I lead her out the huge doors into the rest of Malfoy's Keep. I spot a bedroom not too far down the hall and point at it.

"There?" I ask her softly, and she nods, staring at her feet.

I hope she is okay, and I hope this goes well.


	3. Cassiopeia Black I - 24 December 1350

I swallow as we enter the chambers, and I can feel his gaze hard on the back of my head. I don't know what to do, and he immediately pulls off his cloak and boats and flops down onto the bed. I slowly take my veil and outer layers off until I am just in my underdress, hose and corset. He looks up expectantly at me and I blush, reaching my fingers up to my hair to try and get the braids undone, although I am nowhere near as skilled at it as my sister is. He smiles warmly at me, and pats the bed.

"Do you want children?" He asks, and I can hear is voice is full of curiosity. I freeze, stuck in a train of thought. _Not now. I'm still a little girl. _One day, I suppose, I do, but for now I just want to read and translate poetry and study the stars. I don't want to be a mother, not yet.

"Do you?" I ask nervously, sitting down on the very edge of the bed, my bottom hardly touching the covers. I feel them shift as he kicks them off and wonder how he is doing that in winter – I am freezing in such little coverage.

"Yes. A big family, lots of little Blacks to marry off and use as heirs." He pats the spot next to him and I hesitantly lift my legs up to the bed, crawling up to where the soft pillows are. By a strange coincidence, these are my chambers, but it feels so abnormal to have someone else in here, someone that isn't Anne, who is my usual bedmate. "And to love, of course." I pull my knees up to my chest, realizing that he can see my feet and feeling oddly self-conscious about it.

"I was in Ravenclaw," I pause, "And really, I'm only thirteen. I'd want children, maybe someday, but not now."

"Well," He says, sounding somewhat irritated, and I bite my lip, hoping he doesn't hurt me. I've heard he can hurt people very badly, and he helped my grandfather kill lots of muggles during the Plague. I hope it is just a rumor. "You have to have children now. You're married to me, that's how it works, otherwise it isn't a legal marriage."

I swallow hard, tears stinging my eyes. "I know. I was in Ravenclaw, I'm no fool." He pulls me closer to him, and his warmth is strange to me. He begins to stroke my hair and I feel as if it should be a comfort to me, but it is not.

"Are you okay?" He whispers, and I can only shake my head. He stops stroking my hair and just lays his arms limply around me, "We have to have children, you do understand that. But once you are with child, I cannot touch you. Once we have a son together, I need never touch you again unless you want me to." I know I won't, I don't like him, and I won't, not ever.

"I know."

"Do you think they would be clever, like you?" He asks me, and I frown. Would they be like me? Would it…they? Are we going to have more than one child? Maybe even if they weren't, I could teach them. I could show them how to make their own path in life, and read them stories and write with them. It would be almost like teaching Jane things, because I read to her every night…

_But not anymore. _

"Do you think I'm clever?" I ask him softly. Maybe if he does think I am clever, I can be of more use to him as a wife, instead of sitting on his arm and bearing him children. Perhaps I too can help make this new House…I like the Malfoys better of course, but maybe one day I will be in the thick scrolls that I read, listed as the foundress of House Black…I would like that, I would like that very much so.

"You're in Ravenclaw, you must be clever." He kisses my forehead softly, smiling a little, "I'm glad that you are smart, because all our children will be smart, and so will theirs and theirs and one day the House of Black will be the greatest of them all." I cannot see that happening, not whilst the Gaunts flourish the way that they do. But part of me wants to believe that we can make intelligent beings, because most wizards and witches have more wealth than sense and that should probably be changed.

"Okay. We can have children. _Okay._" And part of me is giving in and of course I am still afraid, but maybe some good will come of it. And he looks at me carefully, as if he thinks I am lying, and I hope he will one day trust me. I do not want to spend the rest of my life being scrutinized.

"Are you sure?" He asks, furrowing his eyebrows.  
"I'm sure." I say, reaching around to the back of my dress and unlacing my corset, sliding it off of me and across to the far end of the bed. He kisses each of my cheeks, soft and careful, and I am glad he isn't hurting me. I do not care what he does, as long as he does not hurt me. As he moves and rolls me into different positions I try to take myself away from it all. Maybe one day our children will be clever, all intelligent Ravenclaws or Slytherins with bright futures. Muggles will bow deeper to them than they ever have to us and even the Gaunts will incline their heads. Loved by all, praised by all…That is how I want them to be. And whilst I do not know what to make of my husband, perhaps I can make something great of myself and this House and my children. I am truly a Malfoy; and I can make this House something wonderful by being just that.


	4. Edmund Black I -25 December 1350

I wake up tired, half-naked in a bed of silk sheets, next to a sleeping young girl. _My wife. _It is still somewhat surreal to think I awoke yesterday single and today I awake as a husband. The golden sun trickles through the window, fighting the snow, and I blink. Today it is Christmas, and we will be here until we have a grand feast for the midday meal. And then I will take my wife to my home – _our _home – which is only a few hours away. But for now she slumbers, with her black hair sprawled out across the silvery pillow, looking truly like the girl she is. I turn away, trying to avoid the stained sheets; I do not want a memory of last night. I dress quickly, and give her a quick kiss on the forehead before hurrying out of the room, locking the door behind me.

People smile at me, and one of the guards winks, but I do not want to speak to anyone apart from my mother. I pass them all quickly, without even acknowledging them, my mother being the only thought on my mind. I need to talk to her; it is vital.

I find the staircase, eventually, and march up the steps, my knees crunching. This is where I visited her yesterday, she has been given a room of honour on the highest floor. Up and up I climb, heart pounding. This is extremely important to me; before I can go any further with anything I need to find out the answer to this question.

I eventually reach the tapestry outside of her chambers, and pull out my wand. _"Alohomora," _ I whisper, and the tapestry flies to the side and the door clicks open. My mother is inside, brushing out her thick hair.

"Lady Mother," I bow my head slightly, and she stands up, rushing towards me with a rustle of silks.

"Edmund," She breathes, "Did she protest? Was she pleasurable? Were _you?" _I raise my eyebrows at her, surprised she is asking me these things, and she gives me a small smile. "I must know, I am a mother, I want to be able to calculate how long it is 'til my grandson is born." I bite my tongue, trying to find out what I should tell her. She need not know much of me, it is my wife who will be impregnated, but I do not want to give away knowledge of her.

"She consented, I was only kisses until she consented." I could have raped her, fucked her, but I did not want a baby born of distress and I did not want to hurt my wife when she has done nothing to me. "I think I did well; she listened to me, had no qualms and was an obedient wife."

My mother clasps her hands together. "Good." She kisses my cheek, "Now we pray, we pray for a wedding night babe."

I decide now is the time to poise my question, and take a breath. "What if she hates me? What if she mistrusts me and is unfaithful and plots and snipes? I want to be loved, Lady Mother, I do not want some bitch to try and kill me." Mother frowns at me.

"Few are loved in marriage. But she is just a girl, she will not plot and whore herself. Not yet, anyhow, and she is not beautiful enough for people to work with her. It is lucky you are not married to her sister Anne," _The pretty one, _"She looks like someone who'd lift her skirt for a smile."

I think of the girl with the silvery hair who trailed behind my wife yesterday, I remember hearing somewhere that she's eleven, and I do not want to think about her sleeping with people, not at her tender age. It is still slightly unearthly for me to think of my wife that way, and I cannot think of a little girl like that.

"Mother, don't," I whisper. This was not what I wanted, I wanted comfort, not to be told her little sister might be a whore.

"She _is," _Mother sings, "Oh, you'll see!"

I take a step back, putting one hand firmly around my wand, "I think I should go downstairs, the feast will start soon, do you not think?" She frowns at me and stumbles backwards, and I wonder why she is behaving this way, it is very strange – but then again, the Rockdragon pox can take reasoning, and I've known for a long time that she doesn't like the Malfoys, that she never has and thinks them foolish and greedy.

"Oh, I suppose!" There's a glimmer of something – _madness? _– in her eyes, and I give a small bob of the head and get out of there before she goes crazy. I lock the door behind me with a quick flick of my wand, and realize that the hallway is nearly empty. But then again, I do believe it is nearly the time for the feast. I decide that I cannot be bothered to walk, and the Great Hall will not be locked, so I squeeze my eyes shut and whirl into the darkness, re-appearing at the doors of the Great Hall. The Malfoys sit on a raised platform, eating merrily and the girls all wearing crowns of red roses around their heads to math their golden dresses. My wife is nervously sitting in her allocated seat, two away from my father, and she is dressed in red with a crown of flowers akin to that of her mother and sisters. She sees me and does not frown, nor does she smile. She seems to look straight past me, not quite seeing.

I walk down through the crowds and notice slight heads turning, but I just wanted to speak to my wife. Make sure she is okay. Wish her the merriest of Christmases. I am nearly at the table when she stands, all of her own accord, and walks over to me, her dark hair tumbling across her shoulders as if she were a maid.

"Edmund," She curtsies slightly, not taking her green eyes off mine. I take her hand and pull her back up.

"Are you well, wife? Did I hurt you?" I query. Her eyebrows twitch, and her fingers are soft, but she pulls her hand away.

"Well," She repeats, and I wonder if in my impatience last night, I scared her, "You were more gentle than I had expected. Harsh in your words but not in your acts."

I do not want to hurt a little child like her, I use my skills for fighting and maiming and murdering and hunting and none of that I need to do to her. It would be akin to slaughtering a cub. I wonder if she found last night enjoyable, for I did not. I have slept with whores and they are all much better than her, but yet she is the only woman I should sleep with, if you can even call her that.

"Merry Christmas, wife," I say cheerfully, slapping her on the back. She is well, and that is enough for me, because one of my friends from school, Percy Crouch is beckoning me over with a glass in his hand and I can never resist a good bit of ale.

"_Cassiopeia," _It's whispered, but it's her voice, _"That's my name." _


	5. Cassiopeia Black I - 25 December 1350

**Trigger Warning: Physical (spousal) abuse**

The feast is over, and my family are now just pinpricks on the horizon, riding so far away that I cannot even see their golden manes of hair or their red dresses or their prancing horses, just small black dots travelling further and further away from the Keep to our – _their _– manor. Now I am truly left alone with Edmund and his scarred mother and his strange father. His mother is behind me, her hand tight on my shoulder, as if to make sure I won't run after them. Mary, her name is – such a common name, of course, and I'm surprised she's a witch at all. Not very good at magic, by the sounds of it. I am a much more proficient witch, and I take pride in that – I am a Malfoy, and I _will _be the First Lady and Foundress of the House Black.

Once I cannot see them, my heart sinks like a stone. They are truly gone, they are truly leaving me and I must not cry. I must be strong, but I cannot be brave. I am still a girl, yet they leave me behind as if I am a woman. I turn my head down and try to blink away the tears, for it is Christmas and I do not want to cry on Christmas, not now and not ever. I just pray that someday I will be reunited with my siblings and the lord my father and my lady mother. _Malfoy. _Malfoys do not cry, and especially not on Christmas. I raise my chin slightly and square my shoulders. I am a _Malfoy. _

"Wife," Edmund slings his arm around my shoulders, crumpling my blue cloak and resting his chin upon the top of my head. I do not want to be anywhere near him, but now I am his wife – I do not have a choice, "You should change. We will be leaving soon. I thought you would be a clever little girl and realize that."  
_Of course. _Once I am in my riding habit, I ride away from here, the last scrap of my family I can cling to, and I will arrive at some point tomorrow at Edmund's manor, which is much smaller than house. I will live out the rest of my days there as a wife and possibly a mother. I never expect to be happy again. And by the way things are going, I may never hear my name again, not if Edmund continues to call me 'wife'. And it upsets more than it should because I want to be Cassiopeia, not wife and one day I might be 'mother' and I do not want to think about that. Mother and Father and all my siblings (especially Anne) called me Cassiopeia, and Anne even called me 'Cassie' on occasion and already my heart aches with longing for that. I want to hear my name, my name that is so important because I was going to be Cecily for my Aunt but instead I was Cassiopeia, Cassiopeia for the queen of the stars, more beautiful than all with a daughter just the same.

I do not want to listen to him, or do a word he says and I do not care for the consequences. If it weren't for him I'd still be at Hogwarts, learning and having fun and I would not be stuck in this foolish marriage. I shrug my shoulders and his arm drapes off of me, and I turn to stare at him. "I would think that a man as clever as you would have noticed that I am, in fact, already in my riding habit." He narrows his eyes and I swallow, trying not to show my fear. I want to be strong, I was born higher than he will ever be and if I were not marrying him he would bow to me and beg my forgiveness if he dared to offend me. He is much taller than me and I think about how just last night he was saying I was intelligent, promising me…He is a liar, I know that now, he is a liar and he will always be a liar.

"I would be careful, wife," He snarls, turning away. I grab my skirts and curtsey.

"Do not worry, I have spent my entire life learning how to be a lady, I think I will be more competent than some in that area." I am going too far but I care not, because I just want to go home and I don't care for him or for anything else other than home now. He whips around, his eyes glowing with rage, and slaps me, _hard _across the face and tears well in my eyes because he's hurt me. The moment his hand hits my cheek his eyes soften.

"I did not want to do that, I do not want to hurt you, but you need to be careful and obedient. I thought you clever and obedient last night, but in the sun you have proven me wrong. I am your husband, you should love me," He says, but I stare at his forehead and my stomach curdles because I cannot listen to his nonsense for even a second. He has hurt me and for that I will never forgive him.


End file.
